


Coda

by EllieRose101



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode: s06e07 Once More With Feeling, F/M, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24105574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieRose101/pseuds/EllieRose101
Summary: Buffy muses on the words Spike sang to her and comes to a startling realization. (Set just after Once More With Feeling.)
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	Coda

One Shot

Buffy’s lips still tingled from where Spike had kissed her. Except, no, that wasn’t quite true. _She’d_ kissed _him_. She still could barely believe it now, three hours later as she sat on her bed, not able to sleep. She’d tossed and turned for a while before resigning herself to that fact. The song Spike had sung to her just wouldn’t leave her alone. All of the words repeated themselves over and over in her head so much, she was pretty sure she could recite the whole thing back to him in one go without missing a single syllable. 

Feeling the need to do _something_ , she eventually got up and wrote it all down. And now here she was, staring at the piece of paper in her hands, getting more annoyed by the minute.

No one had ever sung to her before. And even though Spike didn’t exactly have a choice in it, she couldn’t help but be touched anyway. She used to dream about some guy writing poetry about her someday, and she supposed this was the closest she was going to get. Because Spike may have been forced to sing, but he could have waxed lyrical about cigarettes or whiskey or whatever. Except he hadn’t. He’d sung about her. No one else had been around to hear it, but that hadn’t mattered. It actually kinda made Buffy feel even more special.

Except touched and special was not how she was supposed to feel, especially when she realized what he’d sung pretty much boiled down to ‘leave me the hell alone.’ Hadn’t that been her line? When did it change? Why did she care? And why the _hell_ had she kissed him?

Okay, so he’d saved her life. Technically. But she saved people all the time, and they never tried to smooch her. Or hardly ever. And yeah, he had a good voice. Fine, she could admit that. But that wasn’t it either. Or wasn’t _just_ it. The more Buffy thought about it – and you could get a lot of thinking done in three hours, she’d found – she realized that there were many working parts to why she was pissed off. 

One was that he told her to go away, two was that he’d made her feel all special just before that part, three was his voice, four was the life-savage because, hey! That was supposed to be her part, too. He kept throwing her off kilter or whatever. 

Buffy scrunched up her nose. She didn’t know what a kilter was, exactly, but she definitely felt thrown off it. Oh, yeah, and that brought her onto point five on her reasons-to-be-pissed-off list: he’d gone and sung her truth alongside his own! What kind of jerk turns a girl’s lines back on her, tries to take over her job, AND gets in all her head, opening her like a book and reading to her out loud what he found inside? No one she ever wanted to be with, that was for sure. 

‘You're scared, ashamed of what you feel. And you can't tell the ones you love, you know they couldn't deal.’ She mimicked the words back to herself, almost glaring a hole through the piece of paper. And what was with the bit about ‘You just love to play the thought that you might misbehave’? Presumptuous much? Like he thought he knew her? Ha! 

Buffy’s brain started to get sidetracked at the thought about Spike as a willing slave, but no! She needed to stop that. She was angry, damn it. Assholes didn’t deserve sexy thoughts thought about them. Even if the kiss was nice, and– no, still not going there! Bad brain! 

She could be mad at herself for the kiss, but mostly she’d decided to be mad at Spike for kissing her back. He was older, therefore he should have had willpower or... something. While she was all vulnerable, and-and tired, and – _ugh!_ – really freaking bad at making up excuses. 

The real reason she wasn’t mad at herself for the kiss was because of how good it felt – it was hard to regret a kiss like that – but… uh, where was she going with this? 

Buffy groaned. She really was tired, but that tiredness didn’t seem to have any relation to her ability to sleep. So… where did that leave her? She could continue to brood, which was so not her thing, or… she could go beat up a vamp, she supposed. Maybe a bleached blond vamp, with a stupid accent and a stupid coat. 

She got up and dressed, then headed for the stairs, able to keep silent by avoiding the telltale floorboard that sent creaking noises off throughout the rest of the house. Outside, she automatically started off in the direction of Restfield before she caught herself. She didn’t want to go there. Or, well, maybe she did. But she didn’t _want_ to want to go there. Buffy sighed, knowing deep down that she was just going to end up at Spike’s crypt anyway, so gave into the urge of her feet and started walking again, kicking a stone along for a while. 

Even though Buffy had picked movement over brooding, she soon found she could multitask and quite successfully do both. _Yay, me!_

Spike’s song played over in her head – again – and she felt a twinge of something other than annoyance and warm fuzzies. She paused and stood with the emotion a minute, finally identifying it as fear. _Okay, that’s new._

By now, she knew there was no point fighting it. Her brain was gonna insist on dissecting everything one way or another, so she might as well give in. 

_Okay, I’m scared. Why am I scared? I did psych. I can figure this out._

She took a few steps. Nothing sprang to her mind. Buffy kicked a rock extra hard, then winced when it bounced off a curb and left a great big crack in it. _So, maybe I need to rein it in a little. Think, Buffy!_

She was back to wondering when things had changed between her and Spike; when he’d been able to turn things around, tell _her_ to go away, and have _her_ care about it. It might have been when he didn’t tell Glory about Dawn. It may have been when he promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world, or when he’d counted the days she was gone. 

_Oh, hell, no!_ Her eyes were pricking with tears, but she wouldn’t give into them. All those times had meant something to her. There was something in each of them. So… maybe that meant the caring had been a gradual thing, made up of different points. Buffy supposed that made sense, but it still didn’t explain her fear – which, now she’d recognised it as such, had grown to become full blown terror. 

She was walking slowly – still trying to stop herself from crying – hoping that she’d come to at least some kind of conclusion before she got as far as the graveyard. She thought some more about all the times Spike had said or done something that had really meant something to her and, although it made it harder for her not to cry, she realized there were more of them that she would have initially guessed; so many more of them since she’d come back. 

So he’d been close, lately, stopping her from spinning into oblivion before Sweet came along and tried to make it all a little too literal. Spike had always been under her skin, but at some point that had gone from being irritating to being comforting, kinda, and today had changed things again. His words had changed things.

Change could be scary. Buffy knew this to be true. So maybe that was it. The source of her fear was that things would be different now. She’d kissed him because… because she hadn’t wanted him to change, or things to be different? Did… no. It didn’t mean that she actually wanted him, did it? Not like that. She wanted him to be there for her, sure. Fine. She wanted him not to get sick of her and finally move on. She… really didn’t want him to stop loving her, did she? His love was one of the few constants in her life, right alongside death and destruction. Except different from the death and destruction because his love was… pleasant? 

_Oh my god! I actually like that he loves me. Or at least thinks that he loves me. Why? And why now, when he’s starting to not want me anymore?_ She’d ask herself if the timing had coincided precisely _because_ he’d turned her away, but her brain was already too wrung out for that. The easier thing to do would be to hold a stake to his throat and ask him if he meant it. 

Buffy wanted desperately to ask him if he did – to beg him to take his words back – and, in the absence of bespelled music, ensure with violence that his words now were truth, but of course he’d meant what he sang. Truths revealed was the whole deal with the singing thing, which– Wait a second. Her brain did a double-take, suddenly realizing she’d been focusing on the wrong thing all this time. She stopped again and pulled the piece of paper out of her pocket to re-read the lines of Spike’s song that she’d only skimmed over before. The ones that she’d heard a million times already, about his love and how deeply he felt it.

Part of her had always doubted whether he loved her the way he said he did, but if he’d sung it that meant…. She gasped. It meant he meant it! He really _did_ love her.

And that meant… what? Her brain scrabbled to try and understand the rest, now it had finally accepted the key to it all. Spike wanted her to go away, not because he didn’t want her, but because… because it hurt him to be so close, and know she was tempted but to always have her holding back?

_Wow, I’m an idiot. Spike wants me and I want him to want me and I can have him – I could have had him all along if I’d just realized – if I’d just admitted to myself that– Oh shit!_

Buffy cut herself off mid-thought as the mother of all realizations hit her full in the face. She felt dizzy, suddenly. But despite that, she picked up the pace. Because she needed to find Spike and apologise for jerking him around and running away after she kissed him. She needed to tell him, immediately, that she… she really did. She loved him, too.

Oh, god! Her breath caught and she had to stop again because of a stitch in her side. What was that about? She was fit. Fitter than fit! The Slayer was not supposed to get stitches! 

“You alright?” came a voice from behind her. His voice. 

Buffy turned around, her aching body forgotten all except her heart, which was hammering. 

“Spike.” 

“What’s up?” He cast glances left and right, then sniffed. “Trouble?” 

“No.” She smiled a nervous smile. She didn’t need to be able to see her own face to know it was nervous. She could feel it. Shyness had inched its way along her arms and into her fingertips. “No trouble.” 

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Right. You’re out here, running around smelling like terror just for fun?” 

“I, um….” She bit her lip. “Yeah?” 

“Right,” Spike said again. He moved in the direction of his crypt. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

“No, wait. Spike!” She winced at the shrillness of her own voice, but it had worked because he’d stopped and looked back at her. 

“You sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes,” she said, feeling a little more confident now. Buffy’s very confident and not at all shaking hands pulled the piece of paper out of her pocket again. 

Spike stepped close to peer at it, then grimaced. “Look, Buffy–”

“No,” she said. “It’s okay. I get it now. You….” She braced herself. “You love me.” 

He eyed her speculatively for a long moment, then said very slowly. “Yeah… already knew that.” 

“You did, but I didn’t.” 

His eyes widened. “You what?” he spluttered. “After everything, you– you still don’t believe–?”

“No,” said Buffy again. “I do believe. Now, I do. I get it.” 

Spike opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. By the look of surprise on his face, it was as if she’d stripped off and flashed him her boobs. Buffy tried – and failed, she was pretty sure – to not blush at her own mental image.

“Look,” she said, pressing on and pointing to one line in particular. 

“I know what it says, Slayer. Buffy.” He toed the ground with his boot. “Know what I said. I shouldn’t have– I mean, I didn’t mean–”

“It’s okay,” Buffy reassured him. “Just….” She held out the piece of paper again. “Humor me, okay?” 

He pouted but looked at the part she’d framed between two of her fingers: ‘since I’m only dead to you, I’m saying stay away…’

“You’re not,” said Buffy, looking brightly up at him. She was smiling now, not able to stop herself. 

“No,” agreed Spike, sighing. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I take it back, alright?”

Huh? Buffy felt her face drop. She double-checked to make sure she’d highlighted the right part, and saw she had, then realized he’d focused on the wrong part of the right line. _I guess both of us have been guilty of that._

“Not the bit about staying away, Spike. The other bit. The you only being dead to me bit. I’m saying… I’m saying you’re not.” 

“You-you’re not?” he questioned, now looking utterly confused. 

“No,” affirmed Buffy. “You’re not just dead to me. You’re….” She wet her lips. “You’re more than that. Look at this part.” She moved her fingers to frame the line ‘Till you do, I'm telling you, stop visiting my grave.’

“This is me,” said Buffy, “Not stopping the visits. Wanna know why I won’t let you rest in peace?” 

Spike looked between the lyrics and Buffy a few times, then said, with only the slightest quiver of fear in his voice, “Please tell me where you’re goin’ with this.” 

Buffy smiled, nervous again, but put away the paper and boldly took his hand. “I’m ready, Spike. Ready to stop… just playing thoughts. Ready to act. To… be with you. Properly.” 

“You’re–?”

“I’m in love with you, Spike.” 

She watched his face closely but he didn’t move. He’d gone completely silent again. “Spike? Did– did you hear me? Are you okay?” 

“If you’re playing,” he began, voice scarily low. 

Buffy squeezed his hand and held his gaze. “I’m not playing. I think it happened a while ago, but I only realized it tonight. I… I mean it. I love you, Spike.” 

His face softened and eyes glazed over a little, but he still didn’t move. 

“Spike? Say something. Please. You’re wigging me out.” 

It took him another little while, but eventually he asked, “You mean it? You do?” 

“I get the doubt,” said Buffy. “I guess I’ve been doubting it myself. I don’t have a magical song to prove it to you, so you’re just gonna have to take my word for it. Sorry.” 

For whatever reason, it was the ‘sorry’ that seemed to get Spike moving again. One moment he’d been standing as if encased in concrete, and the next he was kissing her, throwing his whole body into it. 

Buffy looped her arms around his neck and felt his hands come up and caress her back. She leaned against him and kissed and laughed and bit and savoured. When she took a breath, she found Spike was panting just as much as she was. 

“You wanna come in?” he asked. “The crypt, I mean. Downstairs. We could–?”

“I need to get back to the house,” said Buffy. “I shouldn’t leave Willow and Tara minding Dawn without at least telling them. 

Spike looked disappointed but nodded his head as if he understood anyway. 

“So,” said Buffy, holding out her hand to him again. “You wanna come?” 

Just like that, his face was like Christmas lights. “You want me at your place?” 

“I do,” affirmed Buffy, feeling her own face beam as if with light. “And we’re getting you a cell phone so I don’t have to come the whole way out here every time I have an epiphany and need to tell you.”

Spike grinned, took her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Anything else?” 

“Yeah,” said Buffy, enjoying the freedom of the conversation; the freedom of just letting herself feel, for once. She let go of his hand and took off running. “Race you!”


End file.
